


Pretty much fucked

by silveryogis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Coming In Pants, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, ha ha.....ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:05:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2063895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveryogis/pseuds/silveryogis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asahi and Nishinoya grind it out in the supply closet, people may or may not find out, Asahi's glass heart is at stake, etc, etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty much fucked

**Author's Note:**

> FOR THE 30 DAY TUMBLR FIC CHALLENGE this one was 'clothed getting off' so that is basically. exactly what happens here.

It’s the first time either of them have done  _anything_  like this.

The reason it’s happening right  _now,_ right here in the supply closet is probably because they just couldn’t take it anymore—for one, Noya has always thought Asahi looked fucking  _great_ during practice, and that always got him a little worked up, and of course, Asahi thought the exact same of him—so it’s inevitable that it would result in this, with Noya and his fists in the front of Asahi’s warm up jacket, Asahi’s back shoved against a wall.

They’ve kissed a few times (more than a few, probably closer to several), with tongue and everything, but they’ve never done quite  _this_ much, as much as both of them wanted to. It had just never really been the right time—what makes  _this_ the right time over everything else is a bit of a mystery to both of them, but that doesn’t stop them. The way they’re going at it, it doesn’t seem like anything could  _possibly_ stop them, not when they’ve both wanted it so badly for such a long time.

Noya ruts against him, panting, clinging to his jacket with his face shoved in his shoulder. He knows they have to be quick, if they’re going to do something like this, because  _fuck,_ this is the supply closet and the rest of their teammates are still breaking everything down from practice. 

Asahi does his best to keep Noya’s erratic movements under control; he keeps his hands braced on his hips and he’s grinding back against him as best as he can, but his instinct is to mostly let Noya handle it. Also, Noya is whining. He’s  _whining_. 

“Asahi-san,” he says, his voice a little cracked, caught up in the back of his throat. “This is  _crazy_.”

Asahi’s response is hoarse. “You think?”

“I just need it so bad,” Noya tells him, grinding his hips harder, sounding so desperate. Something grabs his cock, and Asahi chokes as he realizes it’s Noya’s hand, grabbing him through his pants. “And you look so good, you feel—feel so good—”

“Nishinoya,” Asahi chokes, nearly doubling over as Noya palms his crotch, rubbing his own cock against Asahi’s thigh. “Quiet, or they’ll hear us—”

“I’m so hard,” he whispers, putting both of his hands back on Asahi’s face, curling his hips into his. Their cocks rub through their pants, and Asahi buries his face in Nishinoya’s hair. “Can you feel it? Can you feel how hard I am?”

“Yeah,” Asahi groans, rutting back against him. “Yeah, I can feel it.”

“It’s because of you.”

Asahi groans out, probably a little too loudly.

Yeah, this was probably a bad idea.

There are footsteps on the other side of the door, and in some senses it gives Asahi a feeling of panic, but in another sense it almost brings him closer—the fact that Noya is  _so furiously_ grinding against him in the closet without the rest of their team knowing, when they’re all probably  _right out there_ is kind of exciting—in fact, he realizes that that’s probably where most of Noya’s excitement is coming from, he seems like he’d just  _love_ something like that; Asahi inhales, smells Noya’s hair and his sweat and it’s good, it’s good.

He can’t wait to see Noya come.

He feels guilty about that, in a strange way, like it’s still something too private for him to see, for him to be  _causing_ —but he shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting that, should he? If Noya is his boyfriend and he’s here, mouthing sloppily along his neck and panting and telling him he’s  _going to_ , that he’s _going to_ come, then he should’t feel guilty for wanting to be the one who makes it happen.

Asahi decides to take a more active role. Squeezing his fingers harder into Noya’s hips, he kisses his forehead, his temple, his ear, craning down to kiss as much of him as he can. He feels their cocks rub again, and again and  _again_ , and he knows they don’t have much time left.

Which is good, because he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out, anyway.

“Asahi-san,” Noya moans into his chest, his face buried. “Asahi-san, Asahi-san…”

Asahi wraps an arm around him, grips his fingers into his hair, pants in quick, shallow breaths. Noya’s movements start to get erratic, he’s moaning, his face is red and he feels so  _alive_ in Asahi’s arms.

Asahi feels alive too, he feels it. But Noya is tensing and clenching his fingers in Asahi’s jacket, and with a stifled cry (thats probably still not as stifled as it could have been, but when has Noya  _ever_ been anything but loud), he  _comes_ , jerking against Asahi’s body. Asahi knocks sideways into a shelf and something falls, and it makes a  _huge_ noise but he doesn’t care, just for this second, because Noya is catching his breath and leaning against him and his own cock is still hard, pushing up against Noya’s hip.

“I just came in my pants, Asahi-san,” Noya says, looking up at him and grinning tiredly. “Fuck.”

His eyes flick back down, and when he’s sees Asahi’s cock still hard in his pants, he grins wider and sticks his tongue between his teeth and palms it, wrapping his fingers around it through the fabric.

“You’re really really close, Asahi-san,” he purrs to him, “you wanna do it too, right? I can make you.”

“Yeah,” Asahi breathes back at him, because in the haze of pleasure, he can’t even tell what’s a good and a bad idea, and the footsteps getting louder aren’t even registering in his head, and Noya is playing with his cock and looking up at him with his wicked eyes, and everything about him looks so  _good_ and his hand feels hot against his dick, the friction is so good and he  _smells_ good too, Noya, and Asahi keeps remembering his face when he came, he remembers it again and again, the sound of his voice and the way it cracked and the way he shuddered,  _heaved_ against his body—

Asahi gasps and comes, bucking into Noya’s hand. He comes all over himself, and he’d be embarrassed about coming in his pants if Noya hadn’t done it two minutes before; and Noya is looking at him like he’s just the most amazing thing on the planet.

He doesn’t really understand that. He doesn’t think he ever will. 

“I can’t believe we did that,” he says, still breathing hard, reaching forward to push a hand through his boyfriend’s hair. Noya grins, wide and big and bright again.

“I can’t believe I got you off in a closet.”

Asahi turns red. Noya stands on his toes to kiss him.

They do this for a while, stand in the closet and kiss, completely oblivious to absolutely everything else. There’s something about each other that just  _does_ that to them. Asahi can’t think of anything else more important, right now, than Nishinoya Yuu; Noya and his mouth and the way he has to stand on his tiptoes to reach him, the way his hands travel so confidently, so curiously up his chest.

Noya wraps his arms around his neck, and Asahi sinks so deep, so fast, feels his heart racing and he knows he’s pretty much fucked because of how much this boy means to him. 

“Hey.” There’s the sound of the door opening, and Tanaka’s head pokes through—Asahi blinks at him with Noya’s arms around his neck and his hair disheveled and loose around his face—Tanaka stares for a second, squints, whispers a quiet “ _what the fuck”_ and backs away from the door.

Well. So much for that.

Pretty much fucked, yeah, that still sums it up. Noya laughs, kisses his face, murmurs “don’t worry, I”ll get him,” and dashes off to chase Tanaka, yelling something to the effect of “ _you didn’t see anything!!!”_ , and Asahi just leans back against the wall and tries to process everything.

He’s probably in love, and he’s so,  _so_  fucked.


End file.
